


Fever Delirium

by fecklessphilanderer



Series: The Arcana Whump [2]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Arguing, Delirium, Emetophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fever, Gender-Neutral Apprentice (The Arcana), Sickfic, Vomiting, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:34:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23383846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fecklessphilanderer/pseuds/fecklessphilanderer
Summary: You had ridden out multiple minor illnesses since you had learned about the plague and your past. It was for Asra’s sake really. You could handle pushing down a cough or a runny nose and low-grade fever to keep him happy. He’d been through so much for you. He didn’t need to be worried about something like this. It’s not like it’s a big deal.It is, in fact, a big deal.
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Asra (The Arcana)/Reader
Series: The Arcana Whump [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675759
Comments: 14
Kudos: 227





	Fever Delirium

You feel disgusting.

Your head hurts. You’re sweating a little bit, but you try to keep a steady pace behind Nadia and Asra as you walk through the gardens.

You’ve lost track of what they’re discussing, and you already used the last of your dwindling magical energy to cool your skin over an hour before.

Asra is radiant in the sunlight, it seems to refract off his white hair. He’s in a simple white shirt with his loose cotton pants he wears the most in the summer. Instead of his usual scarf he wears bright jewellery—gifts from you and from Muriel.

“So y/n, thoughts?”

“hm…” you straighten up to look Nadia in the eye. You hope you are convincing.

“About the old quarter revitalization?”

“Oh, I’m- I’m on the same page.” Nadia squints at you but Asra doesn’t look concerned which is your real goal.

You had ridden out multiple minor illnesses since you had learned about the plague and your past. It was for Asra’s sake really. You could handle pushing down a cough or a runny nose and low-grade fever to keep him happy. He’d been through so much for you. He didn’t need to be worried about something like this. It’s not like it’s a big deal.

The rest of the meeting is painful, but less so once you’re inside the palace. You make it look like you’ve eaten by shoving a few scones into the potted decorations as Asra, Nadia and Aisha sit in deep discussion in the library. Sure, it’s not your proudest moment, but you’re little too queasy for any of the rich snacks Nadia offers. Moreover, if you did ask for some porridge, you’d be found out right away.

You make it through the meeting with intense focus, feeling lucky that its summer so you can get away with avoiding layers.

It’s at the door of the palace that the ruse comes crashing down around you.

“Y/n?” You are about to head down the steps with Asra when Nadia stops the two of you.

“Yes?” You turn back to her and try to make it perky. She’s much closer than you had thought. You stumble and one of her graceful hands is planted on your forehead while the other steadies you by the shoulder.

“You feel quite warm. Perhaps a few days off is in order? If you were feeling sick all you had to do was let me know, I noticed you didn’t eat.”

“uhh,” you don’t look at Asra, you can imagine his expression, “thank you Nadia I will rest tonight and send word in the morning if I need a day off.” She nods.

“Be well y/n, Asra.”

Asra smiles warmly back at her warmly as you say your goodbyes. He continues smiling as you walk out of the palace grounds. Its only when you’ve passed into the streets that he lets it drop.

“You’re sick?”

You shrug.

“y/n…”

“Just a little bit.”

You both continue to walk in silence. Your head feels like its full of lead. Like there’s a rubber band around your skull.

“When were you going to tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you; I’m fine just a little under the weather.”

“How long have you been _under the weather_?”

You walk past a group of people and you go silent while waiting for them to get out of listening distance.

“Only a couple of days—”

“A couple of—y/n why would you just suffer through it!?”

“I didn’t want to worry you. You don’t need this on your plate. I know I can handle things like this.”

“Y/n…” he looks sad and you feel guilty.

“Look Asra I’m sorry, I just don’t want you to have to deal with things like this that could trigger bad memories for you and—Asra?”

He’s stopped walking and is staring at the ground.

You go back to him and reach for his shoulder when he pierces you with a glare.

“You _know_ you can handle this? You’ve done this before!?”

It takes you a moment to process what he’s saying and when you do, he’s already taken your silence as the answer.

“Are you kidding me? What—ugh! How could you just—”

You just stare. He glares back.

“I’m sorry Asra, I—”

“You know what y/n? I don’t want to hear it right now.” He starts to turn in the opposite direction of home.

“I’m going to Muriel’s.”

You reach for him again, but he rolls his shoulder out of your palm.

“But, Asra!”

“Enjoy taking care of yourself.”

**…**

You make it back to the shop as chills start to set in. It’s late afternoon and you still can’t really look at food, so you try to busy yourself tidying up the shop.

You hope going out into the forest helped Asra. He must be hurt. Feel like you don’t trust him. It feels like you’ve failed. You’ve made him hate you. Is that the price you pay for trying to keep him happy? You don’t want him to suffer for you anymore. You just love him so much and it’s…

Tears drip heavy over your hands as you stare down as the cold pot of tea you shared this morning.

You try not to spiral further as you go through the motions of cleaning the kitchen.

You can’t seem to stop oozing tears and your body feels slow. Like you could just lay down on the kitchen floor and sleep.

You run a cool bath instead. You wish Asra was home.

_Will he ever come home?_

You try to acknowledge that’s the fever talking as you sink into the cool water. It helps clear the brain fog and you spend some time washing out your greasy hair and getting the grime of sick off you.

You don’t like being sick, it gives your body a visceral reaction. Like a phantom memory that you can’t quite grasp but it nonetheless haunts you.

Your body is stiff when you get out of the tub. You pull on your underwear but don’t bother with more clothes. Your skin feels hot again.

The sun is beginning to set outside.

You make your way down the stairs and to the kitchen. You’re lifting the kettle to the stove when you put it down with a clang. A rush of darkness rolls over your vision. You let your knees go and lower yourself to the floor before gravity does it for you. You make it to your hands and knees before another wave of chills goes through you and you shakily let your arms go. Your vision tunnels. The floor is a cool press against your forehead. 

**…**

You try to push the hands away from you. It’s too warm. You try to squirm away from the weight as it pulls you into an equally warm lap.

“Y/n!? Y/n!”

Everything hurts.

“Faust, go get Julian, he should still be in his shop.”

“Asra?”

“Y/n? Can you hear me? I need to know did you hit your head?”

“No. Thought you were’th Murl,” your voice sounds garbled.

“Hey, can you look at me?”

When you pry your eyes. Asra is looking down at you with an expression you can barely read. Then you remember the fight. He left. 

“Please don’t leave. I’m fine I promise.”

“You’re not fine y/n.”

Everything is too warm and all you can think about is crying while tidying up the house.

“Hey,” Asra starts to shush you and run his hands over your face. You’re crying again. You can taste the salty burn of it in your dry mouth. 

“What hurts y/n? Julian will be here soon.”

You shake your head. Your throat is clogged with sobs. Its like your body is burning and you can’t think. All you know is Asra is going to leave and you must stop him.

“Please don’t leave me here,” you use what strength you have to grasp at his collar, but he pulls your hands off like its nothing, “please.”

“I’m not going anywhere y/n. Can you walk? Here, let’s go to bed.” He pulls you upwards and the room spins.

He’s gentle as he supports your weight. You make it up the stairs just as the front door closes. Asra yells something down the stairs but you are too focussed on keeping the floor underneath your feet to listen.

You let him set you on the bed. How did you get here?

“y/n look here?” Julian places a hand on your chin and shines something in your eye.

“When did you…?”

“Did you hit your head?”

“No…I” you trail off and wrack your brain, “I knew I was going to pass out so I got on the ground.”

“How long were you on the floor?” Julian holds your wrist in his bare hands.

“I don’t know,” you look outside and its dark out, “since sunset.”

There’s a faint gasping noise behind you. Asra has a hand over his mouth and looks upset. You wonder if he’s still mad.

“I’m sorry Asra,” you try. Julian places a hand on your forehead and frowns.

Then Julian asks you something and you don’t understand it. Asra says something to Julian and they speak in quick succession. Maybe Asra’s telling him what you did wrong.

Then suddenly they stop and Asra runs out of the room.

You don’t yell out for him. If he wants to leave, he can.

“y/n, y/n.” Julian’s cool hands are on yours.

“Its okay, he’s coming right back I promise.” You nod but its hard to stop crying. Julian rubs your back soothingly.

Then Asra’s back and you hope you can make him stay this time. He and Julian push you to lay down, so you follow. You’ll do whatever they tell you if it means Asra will stay.

A cool cloth is pressed to your forehead then there’s a wash of cool and your brain feels less fuzzy. You can’t help but sigh aloud. Your muscles all release at once and you sink into the mattress.

Someone places a vial to your lips, and you drink the sweet-smelling liquid. You hear Asra whisper something.

**…**

You wake up to kick the sheets off yourself and freeze when you realize it must be late morning.

When you turn to your side Asra is asleep sat up in bed with his arms crossed. A damp cloth is across your pillow and there are a few tinctures on the bedside table.

You feel like hot shit.

You think better of getting up and instead prod at Asra’s leg. It feels like someone beat you up, or like you fell down a few flights of stairs.

His eyes slide open and he stares at you for a moment before jumping to action.

“Y/n, how do you feel?”

“Terrible, was Julian here?” Your throat is scratchy and Asra hands you a glass of water from the bedside table. He keeps a hand near yours as you take slow sips as if you might drop the glass and shatter it everywhere.

“He was here last night. Do you remember anything?” 

You do, but it’s a strange jumble. You remember crying a lot.

“Somewhat…” Asra seems to be waiting for you to say more. He lays a hand on your forehead.

“Still warm. Do you think you can eat? When did you eat last?”

“I can try. I ate breakfast yesterday.” Asra sighs. Then he grasps your hand in his.

“I will be right back. Faust take care of y/n for me.” You feel Faust slither up the bed and squeeze your ankle as Asra gets up.

Asra is back only minutes later with two bowls of porridge and you know he must’ve used magic to speed it up. He helps you sit up in bed and then gets in beside you to eat. Your hand is embarrassingly shaky as you move the spoon to your lips.

Asra watches you make attempts and then sets his own bowl down with a clatter.

“Here,” he takes the bowl from you and holds out a hand until you give him your spoon.

This is exactly what you wanted to avoid. Asra had to take care of you when you first came back after the plague. He had to feed you and clothe you and was miserable.

You almost burst into tears when he spoon-feeds you porridge.

You hold it back though. You’d done enough crying the night before. If he had to take care of you, you could at least make it easy on him.

You make it halfway through the bowl when your stomach starts bubbling.

“Um, Asra I think I’m done,” you take the next bite from him.

“Are you sure y/n? Just one more bite for me.” A knife is twisting in your guts, you move to take the next bite.

You vomit back into the bowl and down your front.

“Oh god,” you squeeze your eyes shut and try to breath through it, so you don’t cry and make things worse.

“Its okay y/n don’t worry, we’re done. I’m sorry.” You hear bowls clatter and the stomp of Asra’s feet to the washroom sink.

He returns with a cool cloth to wipe the worst of it away and then helps you strip out of the sleep shirt. He brings back a clean shirt and helps you into it and leaves with the soiled clothes.

When he comes back you are laying down facing the roof.

He places a fresh cool cloth on your forehead and gets you to sit up to hold a glass of water to your lips.

You don’t look at him. You feel the bed creak as he settles beside you and a warm hand strokes the top of your head.

He’s being so gentle. You glance up and he’s looking down at you with a frown and that’s what does it. You start crying without preamble. 

“I’m sorry.”

“What’s wrong y/n?” Asra doesn’t seem surprised.

“I feel awful, and I’m making you take care of me. My head hurts and nothing is comfortable and now I vomited.”

“I don’t mind taking care of you y/n.”

“I’m sorry you have to. You shouldn’t have to take care of me.”

“I want to though,” Asra says, “I should be the one apologizing to you.”

His hand doesn’t stop its steady pattern through your hair.

“I shouldn’t have left you on your own when you were sick. When I found you on the floor, I honestly thought you were dead. And now to top it off I made you eat so much you were sick. I’ve done a poor job taking care of you.”

“You went to Muriel’s because you needed space. I hurt you by hiding things. I can understand why.” You place a hand on his knee, and he covers it with his other hand.

“But fever delirious y/n doesn’t think of things so rationally. You were beside yourself y/n. Do you remember any of that?”

“Sadly yes… it’s embarrassing. We should send Julian flowers.”

“Why were you so upset y/n?” You can tell Asra is prying. You’re too tired to try and block him.

“It felt like you hated me, like I’d ruined our relationship. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but it seemed like the right thing. I swear its only been a few colds that I’ve hidden. I haven’t ever been this sick—at least, as long as I can remember…I guess that’s why I was so scared you were leaving because in my mind you have good reasons to let me suffer through this on my own.”

“I love you; I would never leave. I should’ve paid better attention. If I’d calmed down enough to see it, I would’ve noticed how sick you were.”

The tears have calmed down to a slow ooze. You shift in bed so you can push your face against his side and throw an arm over his waist. From this angle he can run his fingers through more of your hair from where he’s sat up in bed.

“It’s not your fault Asra. I was trying to hide it. I should’ve told you I wasn’t feeling well all those other times too, its my fault that you feel like you didn’t do enough.”

“It still doesn’t excuse the fact that I shouldn’t have lost my cool so quickly.”

“I understand why you did.”

Asra gives you a sad smile and moves his hands to rub your shoulder.

“I understand why you did what you did too y/n, but I want you to know that taking care of you when your sick makes me feel like I can help you. It’s not traumatic for me, it almost feels like I can make up for some of the unforgivable things I’ve done.”

“I forgive you.” His eyebrows shoot up and he bites his lip. The telltale sign he might start crying.

“Tell me what’s on your mind?” You say and tilt your head up so you can look at him fully. There are deep bags under his eyes.

“I was just thinking about how mad I was. I’m sad too, that you were more worried about me when sickness has so much more potential to hurt you and bring back bad feelings. Muriel actually told me to go home because he came to that conclusion before I did.”

It’s not what you had expected him to say.

You think about all the times you’ve been sick. None have been as bad as this. All were nerve-wracking. Which you thought was mainly because of hiding it from Asra.

But when you think about being sick, how hot your skin felt the night before. You feel anxiety winding through your chest, and you wonder if part of why you didn’t want Asra taking care of you was so you could avoid facing it.

“y/n.”

You realize you haven’t spoken for a while and find Asra’s holding the second bowl of porridge.

“Do you want to try to eat a little? If you keep it down, I can give you some of the medicine Julian left and you can go back to sleep.”

“Yeah.”

You let him feed you again. You only eat about a quarter of the bowl before stopping. Then you take a few sips of water and snuggle down against Asra’s side to wait.

With your head on Asra’s chest you feel your eyes tear up again.

“What is it y/n?”

“I just love you…and I hate being sick.”

He laughs and plants a kiss on your hair, rubbing a soothing hand over your arm.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading. 
> 
> I am quarantined rn, I hope you are safe and well wherever you are. 
> 
> If you liked this work and want more I am open to suggestions in the comments. I have a lot of free time on my hands so I might as well write. :)


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